The Importance of Studying the Gemara (Column 745)
The Importance of Studying the Gemara (Column 745)
With God’s help
Disclaimer: This post was translated from Hebrew using AI (ChatGPT 5 Thinking), so there may be inaccuracies or nuances lost. If something seems unclear, please refer to the Hebrew original or contact us for clarification.
Following my repeated remarks, I have been asked several times to explain why I regard the Talmud as such an exemplary and unique text, and what makes the study of it so important—both on the Torah plane and in divine service, and also in the general sphere. I therefore decided to devote a separate column to the matter. Almost all of the points have already been explained by me in many places, so here I will present only the broad picture and refer to the places where I elaborated. My sense is that there is value in seeing the full picture beyond the details.
The Question
A few days ago I received the following question on WhatsApp:
By the way, if I may, on several occasions—both in posts and in answers on the site—you expanded on the importance of studying the Gemara as an intrinsic value, not as a means but as an end. And these points are well known. However, at the same time, from time to time you mentioned that the Talmud is an exemplary book, and in the trilogy you especially emphasized its unique redaction, which enables debate within a framework, and in this way preserved the culture and the people, and so on.
From this, I dare to suggest: perhaps it would be worthwhile to devote an entire column to the importance of studying the Talmud not necessarily from its religious value, but precisely from its essence as a unique text—its style, its structure, the way it develops thought—and to present through it the importance of argument; these matters are very relevant. In short, to formulate the above “refinement” articulated by Steinsaltz.
At the end of his words he mentions things written by Yoel Spitz, in his second book about his meetings with Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, Fire Cannot Rest. I will bring them below. But first I must sharpen the difficulty he raises, which actually hints at two kinds of difficulties.
The first difficulty: the book’s structure and character
The Talmud is constructed in an associative manner that appears, on its face, primitive and unsystematic. The arguments there do not look logically tight; it is filled with unresolved disputes. The transitions from topic to topic and the analogies made there look very freewheeling and unconvincing. The order of matters is jumbled and not divided by topic. Even the ordering that Rabbi (Judah the Prince) gave the tractates of the Mishnah is only a framework within which varied and sundry contents accumulate that do not always relate to the compartment ostensibly under discussion. Tractate Megillah contains many laws and statements not connected to the Megillah, and in the Gemara the discussions develop in highly varied directions, some of which are not related at all to Purim and the Megillah. So it is with the other tractates as well. It is no wonder that when a person finishes learning a sugya, he usually feels he is not holding the material. It is hard for him to say he “knows” the material discussed in the sugya. He knows how to resolve this or that difficulty; he recognizes several approaches of commentators at various points; but he lacks a coherent structure that contains all the relevant material in the sugya.
The second difficulty: the book’s content
Many struggle with the question of why it is customary to give the study of the Talmud such a central place in divine service. Seemingly these are trifles—details of halakhah and its fine points—compared to philosophy and reflection on the foundations of faith, to the study of Scripture as the direct word of God, to the secrets of Kabbalah, and the like. One can also add that the vast majority of these halakhic details are a human creation, produced over the generations and not given to us at Sinai. Why is it so important to engage with things created by human beings, more than with the word of God? Already in the Talmud we find (Bava Batra 134a; Sukkah 28a):
Our Rabbis taught: Hillel the Elder had eighty students: thirty of them were worthy that the Divine Presence should rest upon them as upon Moses our teacher; thirty of them were worthy that the sun should stand still for them as for Joshua son of Nun; twenty were average. The greatest of them all was Jonathan ben Uzziel; the least of them all was Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai. They said about Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai that he neglected not Scripture and Mishnah, Talmud, laws and legends, fine points of Torah and fine points of the Sages, the lighter and the weightier, verbal analogies, astronomy and geometry, parables of launderers and parables of foxes, the conversation of demons, the conversation of palm trees, and the conversation of ministering angels; and the great matter and the small matter—the great matter being the Work of the Chariot, and the small matter being the discussions of Abaye and Rava—to fulfill what is said: “That I may cause those that love Me to inherit substance, and I will fill their treasuries.” And if such was said of the least of them, how much more of the greatest of them! They said about Jonathan ben Uzziel that when he sat and engaged in Torah, any bird that flew above him would be burned.
That is, the discussions of Abaye and Rava are a “small matter” compared to all those lofty secrets that bring down the Divine Presence. It is not plausible that when one is immersed in miggo to extract, or nat bar nat of one day, a bird flying overhead would be scorched. That sounds like something that can happen when dealing with foundational ideas and secrets, not with the parameters of the labor of me’amer or the laws of tearing toilet paper on Shabbat.
So too the Rambam writes in Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah 4:13:
The subjects of these four chapters, within these five commandments, are what the early Sages called “the orchard (pardes),” as they said: “Four entered the orchard.” And although they were great among Israel and great sages, not all of them had the strength to know and grasp all these matters in their truth. And I say that one should not stroll in the orchard except one whose belly is filled with bread and meat; and “bread and meat” means to know the prohibited and the permitted and the like among the other commandments. And although these matters the Sages called a “small matter,” for they said: “A great matter—the Work of the Chariot; a small matter—the discussions of Abaye and Rava,” nevertheless they are worthy to be given precedence, for they settle a person’s mind first. Moreover, they are the great good that the Holy One, blessed be He, bestowed for the settlement of this world, in order to inherit the life of the world to come. And it is possible for everyone to know them—small and great, male and female, one with a wide heart and one with a narrow heart.
That is, the discussions of Abaye and Rava are a small matter that should be preceded to the deeper, truer study, since they settle our minds before we enter the inner sanctum. This is apparently the reason that they also earn a fine reward in the World to Come (people need motivation to engage in things so “unnecessary,” lowly, and boring).
Of course, against these sources and intuitions stands reality. In practice, in yeshivot it is customary to devote the bulk of time to analytic halakhic study. This is not a new invention; so it was in the past as well. The Rambam himself devoted a significant portion of his life to halakhic questions and halakhic compositions. Most of the Rishonim dealt primarily with these questions. Most of the Talmud is devoted to halakhic analysis, and philosophical points—inasmuch as they appear—are hinted, marginal, said in passing, and not precisely or fully developed.
The meaning and character of the Talmud
I have often stood on the casuistic conception underlying the character of the Talmud and on its importance (see, for example, in columns 482, 550, 662, and more). My claim there was that reality has an anarchic character—unsystematic and not subject to sweeping rules and tightly logical thinking. The attempt to describe it in terms of coherent logical theories is the product of our thinking. Therefore, the rules we find always have exceptions. For this reason, a description of reality (perhaps also physical, but primarily human and legal) by a casuistic path of cases and analogies (rather than rules and deductions) captures it more essentially. Presenting the various sides of a dispute, attempting to clarify it in light of conflicting and supporting sources, questions and answers, limiting interpretations, readings and explanations—and all this without deciding in the bottom line for one side—leaves us with a deeper, more comprehensive and complete grasp of the topic, since we have not negated any of the sides. The assumption is that in each side there is logic that cannot be entirely dismissed, and the full description of reality is a combination of all these sides (see, for example, in column 248 about “elu ve-elu,” and in my article here on halakhic pluralism).
The form of a Talmudic sugya enables us to be partners in the discussion taking place within it. We are not learning finished material; we are partners in the process of creating it. The Talmud continues to be created to this day, with the written Talmud serving as the base upon which the next stories are constructed by each of us. Those experienced in analytic Talmud study know that there are almost no two learners who will formulate the same distinction in exactly the same way. Therefore, sitting around a round table and jointly clarifying the sugya is the right way to understand it fully and reach its roots.
Immersing oneself inside a topic—instead of learning it summarized and orderly frontally—allows for a kind of understanding that cannot exist in the conventional frontal mode. It is no wonder that the Sages said that serving the wise is greater than learning from them. There is something that passes only through rubbing shoulders with the sages and their ideas, and not through a systematic, orderly study of the subject. It passes through analyzing cases and entering into them, not through general positivistic formulations. The learner’s task is to try to arrange the sugya for himself and formulate rules after he has entered it casuistically. That is a summary that concludes the entry into the sugya, but it certainly does not exhaust all that we derived there (see, for example, in columns 662 and 707).
When we speak about the transmission of tradition (see in columns 622 – 626 on the dynamism of tradition), there is no escaping transmitting it in this way. Learning physics in a classroom is not the transmission of tradition. Until you have done a kind of apprenticeship—pouring water on the hands of a seasoned researcher—you do not truly understand how this enterprise works. The study of the Talmud is more an apprenticeship than study in the conventional sense.
In the Talmud there is an exemplary combination of logic and intuition, more than in any other text I know. The proportion of logic rises as the generations pass. The Rishonim produce initial abstractions; the Acharonim continue this further and further. Each generation develops what was done until it; and the keen-eyed see that what happens in this generation was already latent in some potential form in all the earlier material (see, for example, in column 625). We are constantly engaged in exposing similar lines across entirely different contexts, in general abstractions and immediately returning to specific examples, in understanding different aspects of each topic and its relations to similar and distant topics (similarity and distinction, analysis and synthesis).
The meaning of the study
As noted, we are not learning Talmud so much as partnering in its creation. Beyond that, the Talmud does not teach us “material” so much as it grants and instills within us a mode of relating. That is what passes from generation to generation—not some defined body of content. And in the course of transmission it naturally undergoes incubation, refinement, and ramification; it moves from language to language, from one conceptual system to another; and they all relate to the same ideas and the same concepts, and all of them manage to speak with one another, to argue, to disagree, to deliberate, and even to decide. And when there is no decision—then to make decisions in a state where there is no decision, and to learn to live with reality that contains different opinions even on acute matters. This mode of relating should be applied also to the world around us, to more general contexts outside halakhah and Torah. The Talmudic person—the homo talmudicus—relates to the surrounding reality with Talmudic tools of analysis and decision. He breaks reality into shades, facets, and faces; he makes abstract generalizations; he moves to philosophical categories; and finally he returns to the ground of reality and makes decisions in a complex, non-deductive manner. I have often noted that rules are recommendations only: they come to guide us, not to dictate to us.
It is no wonder that there are not a few Torah scholars who do not understand this (see, for example, in column 733, and many more). They think they are studying halakhah and do not understand that they are partners in its creation. They also do not understand that the way to relate to the surrounding reality is not a simple application of what we have learned, nor a simple application of the methods we have accumulated. It is a very delicate combination: first, understanding the external reality from within itself; then, applying the tools we have acquired. There are those who think reality is written in Rashi script. This is a mistaken application of a correct conception of Torah. Indeed, the Torah is meant to guide us in understanding the surrounding reality. But that does not mean that all of reality is written in the Torah, and that understanding it is a simplistic application of what we found in the Torah. There is importance to a deep grasp of reality, and only then to applying the scholarly tools and the Talmudic mode of relating. In many cases Haredi rabbis skip the first stage; and this stems from a correct perception of Torah as a binding mode of relating in all contexts, coupled with a mistake in how we ought to implement that.
Personally, I feel in every fiber of my being that I am a homo talmudicus—that is, one whose Talmudic analysis accompanies him in every thought and every decision on any subject. The ability to analyze, to separate different aspects, to put emotion in its proper place and engage the intellect in shaping a stance and making a decision; to balance moral considerations with halakhic considerations; logic with intuition and common sense; facts with norms—all this is a direct result of engagement with the Talmud. There is great contribution from other fields of knowledge, and all of them join into my “Talmudicity,” drawing from it and enriching it. The Talmud is what gives meaning to all the other fields and integrates them into a single, vast, complex, and wondrous whole.
The Talmud is a marvelous combination of psychology, legal reasoning, philosophy, understanding society and the human being, grasping situations, simplicity and the use of theoretical concepts—and the fusion of all these into a consolidated (non-systematic) structure by which and through which it is possible and proper to relate to everything in reality. The perspective one acquires there helps us understand various fields of knowledge, make distinctions within them, and understand the connections and differences between them. Moving between aspects and between Talmudic sugyot turns all this into a natural approach that flows in our veins.
A sense of connection
Beyond all this, in column 63 I used Rabbi Soloveitchik’s wonderful description of his childhood experience seeing his father sitting at the table with all the greats of the generations and debating with them. He waits in suspense to see who will “win.” He feels part of this process that has never ended. I described there at length how each of us who engages in Talmudic analysis sits at the table with all the sages of the generations and debates with them. I described how I argue with them, call them out when they speak nonsense, feel their pain, share in their deliberations, and ultimately shape an independent position that takes all I have seen into account. Decision-making is independent and autonomous—at least with respect to the reality in which I myself stand. Everything I have learned takes part in it; but the move from what I have learned to a decision is not a mechanical deduction. My whole self is invested in it. It is no wonder that my decision is not like my study-partner’s or anyone else’s. This is not a situation in which I learn what some thinker or some sage said in some area as a finished datum. I am there with him; I argue with him, learn from him, call him out, and internalize the product that is formed in this complex, self-driven process.
In conventional frontal learning, one transmits material, and the lecturer determines what the material is and its content, and transmits it to me. Such learning is akin to visiting a museum, where you are distant, maintain the dignity of the exhibits and their creators. Analytic Talmud study is participation in creating the exhibits. It is a workshop, in which you are one of the group, and therefore you naturally feel free to participate in the discussion, to argue with the participants, to call them out. It is a family quarrel that does not indicate disrespect, but engagement and a sense of partnership. I would not do this toward Abraham our father or Moses our teacher. They are part of the museum and transmit to me the word of God. I am not a partner in what transpires with them. In the Talmud, it is a workshop and not a lecture, and there I am fully a partner. This is yet another advantage of Talmud study over Bible study.
Back to the difficulties above
The topics the Talmud treats are, ostensibly, technical, esoteric halakhic details—not important. But from a Torah perspective, God is in the details. We are clarifying what He wants from us. Precisely the grand ideas in thought, in Kabbalah, in ethics, in biblical interpretation, and so on—those are the small things. These are products of human reflection, and each thinker builds them according to his understanding and conceptual scheme. This is not interpretation of Torah that was given to us at Sinai, but a collection of reflections that are not essentially different from any other philosophical thought. By contrast, halakhah and halakhic analysis are an ongoing interpretive process that interprets and refines what was given to us at Sinai, drawing out from it more and more insights, abstractions, generalizations—and also halakhic conclusions. In this sense, precisely the study of halakhah is the deeper connection to the Holy One, blessed be He, and not to human beings. I have often distinguished between Torah in the subject (Torah be-gavra) and Torah in the object (Torah be-chefza) (this is where it began), and I have even written that there is not necessarily a clear ranking of importance between them. It is a difference in kind, not necessarily in importance. Torah in the object is Torah in the objective sense: when you touch it, you are touching the word of God, and the human additions accumulated over the generations are nothing but interpretation of the divine word given at Sinai. That cannot be said of Torah in the subject. Its ideas and contents are, ostensibly, more foundational, but their connection to the Holy One, blessed be He, is far weaker.
In columns 379 – 381 I explained, on that basis, the meaning of the topics studied in the Talmud. We saw there that the author of the Tanya and R. Hayyim of Volozhin describe this very similarly. In their view, Torah study is connection to the divine will that finds expression in the details of halakhah. From their perspective, the subjects we study are not really the point. We are not coming to clarify the law of an ox or a donkey, a thief, or this or that food. All of reality is a medium through which the abstract divine will reaches us. Every generalization we make draws us from the earthly medium up to the Platonic layer of ideas in themselves. But without rooting this in earthly details, we have no way to truly touch it and understand it. Rubbing up against an ox that gores a cow, nat bar nat, the labor of me’amer, and the like—this is the only way for us to truly touch the divine will. It is expressed in them and through them. Abstract formulations of that will, not planted in earthly particulars, will be disconnected and meaningless. Therefore we embrace the King through His garments (in the language of the Tanya’s opening chapters) and not the King Himself. But there is no difference, for the garments are what enable us to embrace the King Himself.
Hence the importance of engaging in halakhic details is multilayered. First, to clarify what is incumbent upon us. But that is study as a means—an instrument of a mitzvah—not an end with intrinsic value (see column 479). Study, as an activity of intrinsic value, is about clarifying the divine will embodied in these details—connecting to it and instilling it within us. And subsequently, applying (yes, not simplistically) this instilled perspective across all areas of life. The Torah is not the laws of nat bar nat, but the mode of relating we acquired through engaging with the sugya of nat bar nat.
Rabbi Steinsaltz’s words
To conclude, I will copy here what Yoel Spitz wrote in the name of Rabbi Steinsaltz about the importance of studying the Talmud (as against the Bible).
He focuses on the form of discourse and the stance with which we approach that discourse, and on the face of it this is very similar to what I have written here. But on a second look you will see that although there is some affinity, we are dealing with something entirely different. I am not speaking about streamlining and enriching discourse between different people, but about the benefit to each of our thinking in and of itself.
Several times in the past (see, for example, at the end of column 482) I emphasized the importance and uniqueness of the Talmud and of its structure for the survival of the Torah and of the people of Israel. Had a canonical work been fixed that looked like the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch or Shemirat Shabbat Ke-hilchatah, the Torah would have shattered into fragments. The variety of situations, times, places, generations, and modes of thought that the people of Israel has contained throughout history could not have contained such a rigid text; it would have lost its meaning and disintegrated into shards of Torah that would take entirely different hues in different places, and shared discourse could not be maintained. Had it been a completely open text, or had there been no canonical text at all, again we would have fallen apart. Only a canon like the Talmud, which succeeds in containing and making room for all the shades and modes of thought, can provide a flexible framework that still stands and manages to contain all opinions, communities, and outlooks and to preserve the possibility of discourse and debate among them. This is the skeleton upon which the people of Israel is built, and consequently also the Torah that it bears across the generations. Here my words return and connect to Rabbi Steinsaltz’s words brought above.
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A beautiful column that reveals interesting aspects, thank you very much!
Indeed, the distinction you made between your words and those of Rabbi Steinsaltz is spot on. However, in general, two hundred percent: the very improvement you propose, even for each of the parties separately, undoubtedly contributes to the general discourse. The distinction between intuition and logic, between argument and emotional expression, the attempt to be precise and define – all the contributions you mentioned that arise from studying the Talmud, may improve the level of discourse considerably.
The basic description you present here is not new to me. Although I have never studied Gemara, I have read dozens of sources that present a similar picture of the Gemara to yours. The question that has always troubled me has been about the price of the (real) vitality that such a scholarly way of life might emanate. And I think that many ills in Jewish history, at least in the symbolic context, that is, in terms of worldview, moral and aesthetic values, intellectual narrow-mindedness, mentality, and the like, are largely fueled by the same excessive vitality that the Gemara “binds” us to. The example (that I took from you) is the degenerate, ultra-Orthodox world of today, most of whose horizons are anchored precisely in the world of the Gemara that you describe. In other words: there is no problem with the Gemara per se (even the opposite), but there is a problem with the meta-halakhic (or meta-scholarly) assumptions on which it is based. Or in more provocative language, as you like: the Gemara did indeed prevail and even perpetuated itself, and in any case the Jewish people were defeated by it.
Surprisingly, I completely agree. But not for all learners.
Your reservation (not regarding all learners) is of course true, but it does not address the fundamental intellectual and ethical question that preoccupies me and, I think, many others - why choose a system whose hard core is the Gemara? What is the philosophical and theological benefit of such a system? I argue that there is no such benefit, and therefore if someone really chooses it, it is only based on more basic a priori conditions that do not align with what the Gemara allows us to think. He may not be aware of this, but that is what he does in practice. My suggestion remains - take Paul a little more seriously.
I explained this. The Bible, legends, Jewish thought and morality, etc., are not the basis. The only way to adhere to the Torah is through the study of Talmudic halacha. That medium allows you to meet with the will of God.
There is no philosophical or theological interest in principle for any person to “adhere to the Torah.” There is no such animal. There is an interest in adhering to the Absolute (God, for that matter). Now we could seemingly begin to debate what the preferred channels of mediation that the Absolute has given us so that we may adhere to Him. The Gemara was supposed to be one of these central channels. But all this is only seemingly. Once we have agreed on the “fettered” nature of this channel, it is no longer possible to justify our personal choice of it with “self-awareness,” that is, to say something like: I am aware of its limitations and dangers and therefore I can make reserved use of it. The Gemara does not allow us any room for such reserved use of itself (all of its “open,” flexible, and reserved thinking is directed to the content of its discussion, not to its very existence).
The only way I see to resolve the contradiction (for someone to whom the Gemara is important as a way of life and who still wants to commit to it with all his heart) is to reinterpret it and therefore reinterpret the Torah and Judaism as a whole. God may have given the Torah, and perhaps He also wanted us to learn it (also through the Gemara). But I really can't understand why anyone thinks that God is such a central channel in it.
The criticism of the lack of a philosophical basis is somewhat reminiscent of Hegel's criticism of Newton's proposal to send a satellite around the Earth, which was realized in the middle of the twentieth century. Hegel argued that this proposal was not philosophical enough. Well, that was enough to convince Arthur Clarke and his friends, who since the 1960s have been busy implementing Newton's proposal in earnest. The same is true of the infinitesimal calculus, which also had a shaky philosophical basis, but there was a difficulty, introduced the idea of the limit and removed the philosophical difficulties that so troubled Berkeley, Hume, and Kant. The fact that you don't understand what the philosophical basis is brings the problem back to you. Not to someone who manages to do something that works and works well.
I don't understand. Are you suggesting that we abolish the philosophical debate on this specific matter? In Judaism in general? Philosophy as a whole? If that's your suggestion, why don't we abolish the entire rational debate as well?
If that's not your suggestion, you're welcome to address my argument ***concretely*** – that is, philosophically – and try to show me its weaknesses.
By the way, as far as I understand, Koshy never solved the philosophical problem underlying the infinitesimal calculus. But I admit that I'm on less secure ground now.
If the difficulty did not really solve the philosophical difficulty underlying the infinitesimal calculus, then I am fine.
I think Rabbi Michi addressed what you are asking. Adherence to the Absolute is a slogan. As limited flesh and blood, we have no contact with the Absolute, unless you assume that by being in the image of God, something in each and every one of us manifests the Absolute (an argument I can certainly accept).
If we have no direct way to touch the Absolute, and given that there is no more prophecy for people, and whatever prophecy there may be, then there are two options:
or create a material representation of Him (a dead statue or a living statue, as Christians see Jesus)
to adhere to His will as revealed in the giving of the Torah.
From what I remember, you prefer the first option and disbelieve in the second option. But for those who assume the second option is possible, then engaging with the will of God as revealed in the Torah makes perfect sense. He disagrees with you that God has no will, and therefore, clarifying the will as revealed in the Torah is, for him, the way to cling to God. The way the Gemara chose to do this is already the second stage, which can also be challenged, but without the first stage, there is really no agreement and therefore no result.
Do you agree with what I am describing here?
I don't accept .
You don't present all the possibilities. I start my theology/philosophy with metaphysical naturalism and only then postulate a personal God who may even have been revealed at Sinai.
Neither the Torah nor the Gemara accept these working assumptions of mine, and therefore either the problem is with me or with them.
I explained why I think the problem is with them: It's not about a "mistake". It's about paradoxical philosophy and theology, that is, those whose "essentiality" (as Michi described beautifully) does not allow us to hold onto minimal structures of meaning and truth and therefore also does not allow us to hold onto any body of religious knowledge (like the Gemara itself)
Now either you understand my argument or you don't. If you don't, you can't move forward, so you have to show what's problematic about it (if that's what you think).
I remind you that you started with a skeptical comment about the relevance of philosophy to this discussion. Now you are no longer there.
So we're back to square one. They're essential but philosophically paradoxical. The philosophical paradox can't erase them, nor is there any reason to erase them. They exist and it will have to live alongside them as a philosophical scandal.
Now you've changed your strategy: you admit that there is a paradox (in the sages themselves, not necessarily in you) but try to legitimize it. In my opinion, this is a lack of self-honesty. So there are two problems here:
First, the choice to prefer "vitality" over self-honesty is not trivial, but it seems that you are trying to present it that way, that is, as if there is no dilemma here.
The second problem is that this attempt to give up self-honesty is self-defeating and therefore will only succeed with limited certainty. The sages themselves did not delve into theology and philosophy (and thus reduced the "vitality" that they themselves preached), or even abundantly. They simply did it really badly. This is the deep meaning of their casuistry.
I propose something else: not to give up this vitality but to try to reinterpret it. It is clear that my interpretation also has a price – To go beyond the boundaries of authentic historical Judaism. In my opinion, it's worth it both theoretically and probably practically.
In my opinion there is no paradox. I speak in your opinion. You posit a paradox and at the same time recognize the vitality of the Gemara. Do you really have a proposal that would improve the state of affairs?
If you now claim that there is no paradox here, you did not understand my words and in any case you are not dealing with them. It is a pity that they are simple and easy to understand. Read them again carefully. It is possible that after you do this you will remain with the same conclusion, but even then you will have to justify it. I think you have not done so yet.
.
Doron, I will ask you a question (even if you don't understand the context yet, I promise you that eventually you will understand to the point of pain). Imagine the following situation if in the society in which you and I live, someone respectable, whom we assume is important to his self-respect and to be considered intelligent, comes and declares about himself when he comes to discuss the aspects of the object of his research the following statement "Even though I am a pedophile" and from then on he will try to give us moral understanding on the subject (trying to get us all in favor of it, of course, leave the illegal matter aside for a moment). The small problem is that of course such a statement indicates that the person is unaware of the feeling of shame it creates in the listeners. Doron, out of pity for the person, would you recommend that I take him aside and tell him to listen out of respect for the human being in you? I don't know what society you came from, but in the healthy and enlightened society in which I live, I advise you, for your own good, not to make this statement anymore. I don't have the ability to convey to you the feeling of shame that was supposed to be conveyed. To smear it on your face when you declare yourself to be a pedophile, even if you are not ashamed to go naked, but it creates an immediate closure in the person you are talking to, and you will no longer be able to influence him in any way. What do you say, Doron?
You are too in love with the Gemara to criticize it. Unfortunately, the Gemara itself was written by people who did not have a tenth of your IQ, nor the intellectual integrity. For example, what is this like, for Yitzhak Amit to write a column about how important and pure Aharon Barak's revolution is. At the end there are all the additions to the Gemara because it was written by people with low IQs and studied by people who did not dare to see that the king was naked
Nonsense. Study an issue in depth, even without commentators, and you will see that the Gemara has wonderful depth, based on an "IQ" much higher than what you describe.
I also want to join Eitan and ask that many times the Rabbi says that in the Bible everyone puts their opinions in, and it seems to me that the Amoraim did not have such a high IQ level to do what Brisk's Beit Midrash does with it, and neither did the Rabbi (and the proof is to see how the Rishonim studied Gemara, and also the questions between Rishon and Rishon are not scholarly but practical, except that Brisk's Beit Midrash turned even the Rishonim into geniuses of the world..), and in short, I think there is a convention regarding the Gemara and therefore it is our workbench without a choice (and maybe that is what the Rabbi actually meant)
1. I did not write that the Amoraim were geniuses, and the greatness of the text does not depend on their genius, as Y”D wrote. Its greatness is in its structure and contexts. No less in its editing than in its content.
2. Regardless of this, the fact that the Amoraim did not think and act like the Brisk scholars does not mean that they were not geniuses. It is a different way of thinking and conceptual system.
3. I have the impression that the Amoraim had very good intuition, and scholarship is the conceptualization of their intuitions. I have often written that scholarship and analytical tools are compensation for those who are endowed with weaker intuition, or who are less willing to use it.
3. Rabbi, this is really brilliant, but could you please expand on this?
Personally, I find it very difficult to understand this. Good intuition does not necessarily mean that all the scholarship that exists today is behind it, and even if we assume a very large assumption that it is, does this mean that they did not know the scholarship and that it was only behind their intuition? By the way, this is apparently different from the Haredi perception today, which does not look at the lomadas as ”conceptualization” but rather as revealing the true thoughts of the Tanais and Amoraim.
See column 626 (and throughout the series there).
Thank you very much, Rabbi.
If I understand the rabbi correctly, the greatness of the Gemara lies more in its open structure than in the genius that the Amoraim themselves may or may not have. The open structure allows for clarification, criticism, and coverage of the subject from various sides until its final clarification. After that, the analysts will come and clarify the initial intuitions found in the Gemara and the Rishonim. The open structure parallels Popper's description of the structure of scientific research as an open body of knowledge subject to constant testing and criticism by the community of scientists that transcends this or that genius of its members (which certainly exists).
In passing, I will add that the accumulation of the discussion explains why it is better for yeshiva students to study Gemara with Rashi instead of with Schottenstein. , since Rashi opens a discussion that has lasted 1000 years and Schottenstein concludes it, and this without disparaging Steinsaltz and Schottenstein for those who need them.
“In closing, I would add that the accumulation of the discussion explains why it is better for yeshiva students to study Gemara with Rashi instead of with Schottenstein. , since Rashi opens a discussion that lasts 1000 years and Schottenstein summarizes it”.
On the one hand, you are right, but on the other hand – what is wrong with a good summary?
Indeed, for a study order, there is no doubt that Rashi (although Rashi is usually the basis for a study order) is better, as is Sh”, but for a study order – where you don't go into too much depth anyway – Rabbi Schottenstein is definitely better.
But what, people are not willing to admit the truth that it is possible to achieve and understand more with Schottenstein, and therefore prefer to continue studying one page with Rashi during an entire seder, and be left with bundles of questions, than to study three pages with Schottenstein, and be left with a few single questions (if any) and gain a clear understanding of the issue; as long as one does not go too deep.
Apparently the explained gemaras did not enter the world of yeshivahs, that is, they entered the bookcase (to the reader), but not to the students themselves, most of whom will not study them in a systematic and knowledgeable order, mainly because of the shame of their friends (and perhaps also of themselves?) and other things.
I disagree. The effort to understand the issue when you are not spoon-fed it is part of Torah construction. And this is also true for studying proficiency. No one forces you to stick to Rashi. If a question arises in my mind while studying and I see that the Tosafot, or Ritva, or one of the last ones on the page also raises it, then I have good feedback that I am learning correctly. That the study did not remain at the level of recitation but correctly understood the issue.
Schottenstein apparently answers a certain need that exists, but he cannot replace the need for people to directly deal with the difficulties of the issues.
I'm talking about a guy who has already read and studied and spent many years of his life in a small and large yeshiva and knows how to read well, and now his time is limited (until the wedding) and he wants to get a lot done, surely it would be better for such a guy to take Gemara Schottenstein and not waste most of his time trying to understand what is written here at all.
He will continue to perfect the Torah construction in the Seder Iyun, but what about knowledge of the Torah? In the past, guys would know a quarter of a Shas, half a Shas, and some almost a full Shas, today this is no longer considered so, the main thing is to know how to "speak in study" and throw in a few good sabbaths in the Seder Nishim-Nazim, and lo and behold - you are the eminence of the yeshiva. And indeed, those who knew Sh”s studied with Rashi, but I am sure that they did not dwell on every question and advanced quite quickly. Nowadays, this can be done more quickly and efficiently, by Schottenstein, and it is a shame that young men do not do this.
By the way, despite the prevailing perception, in my opinion, Schottenstein's order of proficiency can be better in a chvruta; if it is not a really good chvruta, and a person is not looking to expand his hasbara skills at the moment – it is better for him to study at Schottenstein (if he has self-discipline).
I really wonder when the yeshiva world became so scholarly and no longer valued proficiency so much? In the past, it was not like that (!!!).
“Leaves us with a deeper, more comprehensive, and complete understanding of the subject”
The period should be replaced with a comma.
“In theoretical terms”. Theoretical cells.
“(Here it began),.and”. is missing a space and the period (or comma) should be deleted.
Thanks for the comments. Fixed.
“Therefore, we are dealing with the embrace of the king through his clothing (in the language of the author of the Tanya in the first chapters) and not with the king himself. But there is no difference, since it is the clothing that allows us to embrace the king himself.”
The fact that the clothing allows us to embrace the king himself does not mean that they are an embrace of the king himself.
True. And yet both claims are true.
Very nice column!
You wrote, “Most of the Talmud is devoted to the study of halakhic law, and points of thought, to the extent that they appear in it, constitute implied and marginal details that are said in passing and in an imprecise and indetailed manner.” I agree with your very claim about the study of halakhic law, but it is impossible to deny that the sages dealt with a great many legends. In addition to the Babylonian and Jerusalem legends and the numerous legends in the Tannaitic halakhic midrashim (Mekilta, Sefera, Sephiri, and Sephiri Zuta), Midrash Rabbah, Midrash Tanchuma, Pirkei Darbi Eliezer, Pesikta, Yalkut Shimoni, and more and more were written. Do you think there is an explanation for the writing of these midrashim?
I have no idea. I also don't know why the legends in the Talmud were written, so I certainly don't know why the midrashim were written. You have to ask their editors.
Why does the Rabbi so disparage the Aggadah? The HaGar writes that all the secrets of the Torah are hidden in them.
Although the Rabbi can claim that the king is naked and everyone interprets them as he pleases, “both claims are correct” (as the Rabbi says in Mak”a) and in other words: this does not contradict the fact that the writer was aiming at very deep things in them.
Incidentally, the Rabbi wrote about the well-known sermon of the Sages, “Come and let the account of the world be counted” etc.’: “I must honestly say that these sermons… have indeed embarrassed me from time immemorial” (https://mikyab.net/posts/5360/).
But on the other hand, in another place, the rabbi seems to be definitely acting and putting this sermon – in his own words – before his eyes: “I always put before my eyes the look I will have when I turn around in bed and face the wall before “returning equipment” (in the 120th). Will I look at my life and be satisfied with it or not? Will I leave a mark on the world, and have I fulfilled my goals reasonably? It is an enlightening look and worth adopting once in a while when you examine your path” (https://did.li/mPUIw).
If you have no way of knowing what the writer was aiming for, how do you know he was aiming for something profound? This is a baseless statement. It may be true, but even so, it means nothing to us.
Rabbi, is it possible to find a direction to know what the writer was thinking when reading a Haggadah in the Gemara, even though there are ten different interpretations of it, it is certainly possible, after delving into them, to try to strive in a certain direction (which I hadn't necessarily thought of before). How is this different from Talmudic study, where there are several opinions in the Rishonim and in the end we understand the Gemara mainly according to one method? Sometimes the opinions in the Rishonim are really contradictory.
The main difference is that with the Rishonim it is more difficult to impose their opinion on us, unlike with the Aggadota, but the Rabbi has already said that ”If you are sharp – you can prove anything”.
Rabbi, after forgiveness, I do not understand why the Rabbi disparages the aggadahs, and after all the Grac writes (interpreting them as parables) that contain great and immense secrets, and for example, the well-known aggadahs of Ravbach are explained in the Zohar corrections as very profound concepts in Kabbalah.
Although the Rabbi can claim that ”the king is naked” and everyone interprets the aggadahs as he pleases, “both arguments are correct” (as the Rabbi says in Mak”a), or in other words: this does not contradict at all that the writer of the aggadahs hid immense depth in them.
–
Below is a quote from the rabbi from the well-known column on Hasidism, on the famous verse of the sages: “Come, let us reckon.” “I must honestly say that these rabbis have indeed embarrassed me from time immemorial.” This rabbi says that one must reckon with the world, and the rabbi goes on to explain the importance of this.
Here is the big surprise, which not only the rabbi elaborates on but also the rabbi himself: “I have always imagined the look I will have when I turn around in bed and face the wall before returning the equipment” (in the year 120). Will I look back on my life and be satisfied with it or not? Will I leave a mark on the world, and have I fulfilled my goals reasonably? This is an enlightening perspective and worth adopting once in a while when you examine your path. It takes you out of the current race and gives you a good perspective and peace in making decisions” (https://did.li/mPUIw).
So why have these “dushim… indeed *embarrassed* me forever”?
And one could hardly say that the rabbi was speaking in general about other dushim in the Sages, but the example there leaves no room for doubt, since the words were actually said about this dushim of the Sages.
Already sent above, sorry; initially the message was not offered above.
Before the Tanya and the Rebbe of Valazin, the Maharal of Prague in Teferet Yisrael, Chapter 11.
This is his language:
“The Torah, which is the ways of God, blessed be He, and His decrees that God, blessed be He, decreed, let him not think when he acquires knowledge of the four fathers of harm that he acquires knowledge of an ox and a pit or that he acquired knowledge of the matter of man and his conduct only, and he will find it difficult because he would be higher in rank when he acquires knowledge of the wheel and the like from those that are present. This would be a question. If he acquired knowledge of man himself and reached man, then it would be possible to ask this question. However, the Torah is a decree from God, blessed be He, and it is a burden on man, just as the entire Torah is a decree and a burden on man. Therefore, when a man acquires knowledge of the four fathers of harm and the like from the laws of the Torah, he is considered to have acquired knowledge of the decree of God, blessed be He, and His conduct was decreed upon man.
And this is the great difference between knowledge of the Torah and knowledge of the wheels and the foundations themselves, because these things themselves are not so much on the scale that even heaven has not gained in his eyes, and even the angels will be praised, and if so, he has not gained anything of value at all. But knowledge of the Torah, even if knowledge of an ox and a donkey and other things that are not important in themselves on the scale of this attainment, since these things are the decree of God, blessed be He, and exalted be His name over all creation, this is the value of this level of knowledge.
And further there:
“The Torah in what it is, the decree of God, blessed be He, is not based on anything, and it is only wisdom and it is a holy Torah, and even though the Torah is based on material things, this is nothing, because if the commandment of the Torah in this matter were that the law of the ox was binding on the ox, just as the wise man of the ox is binding on the ox itself, it would be possible to say so, but the laws of the Torah are binding on God, blessed be He, who decrees the decree of the Torah upon the person who will behave in this way and behave in this way, this matter is not based on a material thing, only that they are decrees upon the person from God, blessed be He, not from the material thing alone, as was explained above, because the commandments of the Torah are decrees from God, blessed be He, from the side of its truth, and as we explained above, and the Torah is not based on anything at all, since it is the decree of God, blessed be He, and therefore, even though the commandments are in material things, they have no reference to the material thing, other than that they are not from the material thing, only that it is the king's decree to burden him.”.
Very beautiful. Many of my words appear here.
I read what you wrote under “The feeling of connection” .
This is such a subjective thing that it has probably been ingrained in you since childhood.
There are those for whom connection to the Creator is playing music or building farms in Israel or opposing Zionism. Each person has their own mind, and probably according to their mental inclinations.
It is a fact that for so many religious people (including Haredim/repentants and especially religious people) studying the Gemara is actually very uncomfortable and does not create any optimal connection with the Creator.
I remember an article by the late Uri Orbach, “Sometimes the Gemara is the Abolition of the Torah”, with a criticism of the study of the Gemara in high school yeshivahs. You are welcome to read it.
So are you right? Yes.
And is Uri Orbach right? Yes.
And is a hill boy who spends his best hours building a farm right? Yes.
And is someone who only studies Tanya or Likuti Moharen right? Yes.
And is someone who protects his people most of his life right? Yes.
And someone who engages in charity right? Yes.
“And is someone who only studies Tanya or Likuti Moharen right? Yes.”
And if he left with the land, do you still think he is right? (I believe you would, but you must explain it.)
And the same goes for all the other examples you gave.
There is a misunderstanding here. The feeling of connection is not the essence of my argument. The claim is that there is an actual connection, without any connection to feelings. Feelings only reflect this. When one engages in his will, one is attached to it. On the other hand, all other things are subjective feelings that do not indicate anything essential. A person can feel a connection to God while standing on one foot. This is not the point. This was emphasized by the soul of life, who distinguished between the feeling of attachment (which is the goal of Hasidism) and the reality of attachment (the opponents).
When I spoke about the feeling of connection, it is an expression of the fact that there is a real connection here. I really sit at the same table with them and argue with them. By the way, this is a feeling of connection to previous generations and the chain of transmission of the Torah, not to God.
But what is the evidence for your argument?
You write that studying Torah is the will of God, and doing His will is connecting with Him, even if you don't feel it. Let's assume that makes sense.
But it also makes sense that settling the land is the will of God, and doing good deeds most of the day is the will of God, or fighting Zionism is His will, or maybe even reading Psalms all day is His will.
How do you know that His will is primarily that we learn Torah in the way you are used to learning it?
Indeed, even to settle the land is the fulfillment of his will. I didn't understand what the question was.
The resettlement of the land is an example that has references in the Bible – from the spirit of the Bible, from a simple reading of the stories, and of course also the commandments that depend on the land (a huge part of the commandments).
Studying the Talmud is a different story. Yes, it says that one should study the laws/things that Moses and Joshua passed on to the people in those days (the things that are written in the Torah itself), but it is really difficult to conclude from this that this comes to the Talmud as we know it. The Talmud does contain Torah sayings, but it really does not look like the things that Moses and Joshua passed on to the people of Israel in the desert.
At first, the photocopy of Rabbi Steinsaltz's words appeared, but now it does not appear (and perhaps the problem is with my reception):
“Rabbi Steinsaltz's words
To conclude, I will copy here what Yoel Spitz wrote in the name of Rabbi Steinsaltz about the importance of studying the Talmud (as opposed to the Bible).
He focuses on the form of discourse and the approach with which we approach the discourse, and seemingly it is very similar to what I wrote here. But at a second glance you will see that although there is some connection, it is a completely different matter. I am not talking about streamlining and enriching the discourse between different people, but about the benefit to the thinking of each of us in itself.”
Fixed
Hello, Rabbi. Very nice column!
You wrote that most of the Talmud is dedicated to the study of halakhah, and points of thought, to the extent that they appear in it, constitute implied and marginal details that are said in passing and in an imprecise and indetailed manner. I agree with your very claim about the study of halakhah, but it is clear that it is impossible to deny that the sages dealt very extensively in the field of aggadah, in addition to the Babylonian and Jerusalem aggadahs and the aggadahs in the Mekhilta and the halakhic midrash from the Tannaim period were written: Midrash Rabbah, Midrash Tanchuma, Serki of Rabbi Eliezer, Pesikta, Yalkut Shimoni, and so on.
I don't deny it. So what?
In your article, you presented several unique virtues of the Talmud - its casuistic form that is relevant to reality, its being an ongoing debate within a single canon, the nature of shared learning, and the assimilation of a unique way of thinking - but I have not completely understood whether these virtues directly relate to the quality of the "devotion" to God that is acquired through its study. In other words, it is understood according to the words of the Tanya and the Nefesh HaChaim that studying Torah in itself is devotion or perception of the Creator, but I do not clearly see whether, in your opinion, there is a unique virtue for the devotion and "perception" that is created specifically in studying the Talmud as opposed to studying Halacha - in light of what you wrote. Do you think that these virtues (casuistics, participation in discussion, and the like) enable "perception"? More direct or deeper in God (and this in itself can be explained, and hence also a higher religious value of devotion? Or is devotion itself essentially the same in both the study of Halacha and the study of the Talmud, and you only emphasized additional advantages – intellectual, cultural and methodological – that do not concern the very status of devotion?
Assuming that there is indeed a value of higher “perception” and ”devotion” in the Talmud, it seems that this can be understood in two ways: (a) Haftza: The Talmudic content itself embodies a special spiritual depth, which allows for a deeper connection to the will of God, and therefore it has a greater virtue of devotion compared to the study of versed Halacha, such as clear Mishnah and the like. (b) Gebra: Since the nature of Talmudic study requires intellectual labor, creativity, and penetration into the depth of the issue, the person exerts all his powers, And he invests his intelligence to the fullest, and as a result, he becomes more "adherent", not in terms of the content but in terms of the sheer intellectual and mental investment that is full of learning.
Adherence to His will is a clarification of His will. Such clarification is halakhic study. I didn't understand what you call ‘studying halakhic’ if not this. Studying a clear Mishnah is not studying halakhic. Halakhic is what you deduce from examining the issues, not what the halakhic deduced from them.
Why isn't the halakha *also* what the Chafetz Chaim deduced from it?
The rabbi also admits that someone who is not qualified to rule on their own should follow the Mishnah (or their posak), and perhaps this is a deed, but it's hard to say that this is not studying halakha.
And is there an advantage to adhering to His will through Halacha as opposed to, for example, Bible study? Beyond your opinions on Bible study, I mean is there added value in clarifying His will on other things (are there any?)?
Two questions, with apologies before the proper review.
How did the transition from biblical style to the style of the Gemara occur?
What did the Torah look like according to Rabbi Eliezer, who did not say anything he did not hear from his rabbi?
In my opinion, the Talmudic way of thinking is the unique asset of the Jewish people, much more than the content. It is what has preserved the pioneering Israeli startup.
Former Haredi.
The typical Israeli strategist has never opened a gemara, neither he nor his father nor his grandfather. Alternatively, he has read and heard countless other contents. The influence of the gemara, as old as it is, has been greatly diluted beyond recognition. There are other explanations for success, a small nation faced with difficult military, economic and social challenges exhausts the capabilities and resources for success.
Why the nonsense? Jews have always been more successful in every field they have pursued, by an exaggerated statistical margin over other ethnic groups, and not necessarily in difficult situations. World chess champions, for example.
Great column.
Corrections
The references to other columns are all to English columns
Until you did an internship’ you poured water – a sentence that claims correction.
The references have now been corrected.
Quite a few scholars
Students